The Emerald Casket

by Richard Newsome

  ‘Let me get this straight,’ Gerald said. ‘You and Miss Turner went for a moonlight stroll that night at the Taj?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you assumed that Constable Lethbridge would be there to keep an eye on us while you went for your little walk?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But turns out Constable Lethbridge also decided that he quite liked Miss Turner and he followed along. Is that the case?’

  Fry’s eyes burned like a blast furnace. ‘Yes.’

  ‘And you all somehow wound up back on the street. And then you got into an argument with a local policeman because he caught you…doing what exactly?’

  Fry pursed his lips. ‘You know.’

  ‘I don’t think I do,’ Gerald said.

  Fry swallowed hard. ‘Miss Turner and I were observed having a…ahem…public display of affection.’

  Gerald couldn’t hide his delight. ‘You were caught having a kiss? The police caught you and when you protested they locked you up for causing a public disturbance?’

  Fry lowered his head. ‘Yes,’ he mumbled.

  ‘And when Miss Turner complained, she was locked up as well, as was Constable Lethbridge. Yes?’

  ‘Yes.’ Fry shifted on his feet. ‘If sir has completed this round of torture, I believe there are bags that need to be packed.’ He didn’t wait for Gerald’s response before trudging out of the study.

  Ruby, Sam and Alisha waited until the door closed behind him before dissolving into laughter.

  ‘That wasn’t very nice of you, Gerald,’ Ruby said.

  ‘I know, but he was meant to be looking after us. It would have saved a lot of hassle if they’d been on the job.’

  ‘Maybe,’ Sam said. ‘But then you wouldn’t have had the chance to lock lips with Kali, would you?’

  A faraway look washed over Gerald’s eyes. They’d only arrived back from Mamallapuram the night before, courtesy of Gerald’s black American Express card and a charter jet. The enormity of their adventure was only just starting to sink in.

  ‘At least Inspector Parrott seemed happy with the new leads,’ Ruby said. ‘Though I can’t imagine they’ll catch Green.’

  ‘I can’t believe he killed the fortune-teller,’ Alisha said. ‘That poor man.’

  ‘He was trying to warn me,’ Gerald said. ‘Right from the time in the market. Green sent him there to do his thing…read my mind, or whatever. He said someone was trying to stop me. And to tempt me. That card in my pocket was his way of saying watch out.’

  ‘Maybe he ran off because he foresaw his own death,’ Ruby said.

  Gerald stared up at the Noor Jehan diamond in the display case. The fortune-teller’s words, ‘You are the progeny’, echoed in his mind.

  ‘They’re blaming local bandits for the damage.’

  ‘Huh?’ Gerald was jolted from his daydream.

  ‘The damage at Mamallapuram,’ Alisha said. ‘The site was totally flooded.’

  ‘I still feel bad about that,’ Gerald said.

  ‘Come off it, Gerald,’ Sam said. ‘The thin man fired that shot, not you.’

  ‘Yes. But he was aiming at me. I phoned Mr Prisk and told him to make a donation to the Archeological Survey of India.’

  ‘Mr Prisk? What did he say when you wanted to spend that kind of money?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘I didn’t actually speak to him.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Gerald’s grin returned. ‘He was in an all-day meeting.’

  ‘And what about the fraternity?’ Ruby asked. ‘Mr Hoskins is furious the emerald casket’s been found.’

  Gerald shrugged. ‘He’ll rant and rave and howl at the moon. But it won’t change anything. Kali was pretty upset, too.’

  Sam laughed. ‘She was more upset saying goodbye to you.’

  The faraway look returned to Gerald’s eyes. Ruby leaned over and clipped him across the back of the head.

  ‘Oi!’ she said. ‘Concentrate.’

  ‘Do you have to go back to London?’ Alisha asked. ‘It feels like we’ve hardly done anything.’ She let out a laugh like a note on a Steinway.

  ‘All I know is I’ve had enough of Sir Mason Green and his stupid caskets,’ Gerald said. ‘Whatever those gold rods are, the only person they seem to affect is me. Most sensible thing to do is keep far away from Green and his antiques collection.’

  Sam cast Gerald a sideways glance. ‘So you’re going home, then?’

  ‘Yep,’ Gerald said. ‘Back to Sydney.’

  ‘What about that stuff that Alisha found written on the casket lid? What was it? Horace owed a tenner?’

  Alisha closed her eyes. ‘Horace’s Ode number eleven, you Philistine.’

  ‘Yeah, whichever. What happened to carpe diem, Gerald? What happened to seizing the day?’

  Gerald stared at the ceiling. Surely going home and forgetting about Mason Green, the caskets and the thin man was the best thing to do. So what if those golden rods made his head feel like it was about to explode? Simple remedy: don’t touch them. He had more money than was morally acceptable for one person to possess and a lifetime to enjoy it. Wasn’t there a rock’n’roll lifestyle out there, just waiting for him to live it? So what if the fortune-teller had called him the progeny. Mr Hoskins had laughed at the thought of there being a chosen one.

  Gerald kicked at a spot on the rug. ‘The thing that eats at me is Green has got away with it,’ he said. ‘Twice now we’ve beaten him to the caskets and each time he’s walked away with the prize.’

  Sam grunted. ‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘All we got was a couple of gemstones.’

  Gerald jolted upright in his seat. ‘The gemstones,’ he whispered. Then a look of determination crossed his face.

  He darted out of the study, and returned a minute later with his beaten backpack. He upended the contents onto a coffee table. A shower of lolly wrappers and his notebook spilled out, followed by a rolled up T-shirt that hit the table with a heavy clunk.

  Gerald grabbed at the shirt and unwrapped it. The emerald rolled onto the glass tabletop. Gerald fumbled inside the shirt and pulled out the large red stone that Sam had plucked from the temple roof. He felt its warmth in his palm.

  ‘Ruby,’ he said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘No—this is a ruby. The last of the chests must be a ruby casket. And this is the key. Do you know what that means?’

  Ruby, Sam and Alisha looked at each other, confused.

  ‘Green can’t open the last casket without it?’ Sam said.

  ‘That’s true,’ Gerald said. ‘But also, we now have the three keys to the three caskets. Together with Mr Gupta’s diamond, this is the first time these three stones have been together since Marcus Antonius and his brothers left Rome.’

  Gerald’s eyes returned to the Noor Jehan diamond. ‘Alisha,’ he said, ‘do you reckon we could borrow your dad’s diamond, just for a bit?’

  Alisha crossed to the display cabinet while Gerald cleared the junk from his backpack off the coffee table. He laid the gems in a row.

  ‘The three of them do make a nice collection,’ Ruby said.

  Gerald’s eyes sharpened. ‘The three of them…’ he said.

  Then he grabbed Ruby by the shoulders. ‘Let’s try something.’

  A minute later, Gerald stood in the centre of the room. He placed his notebook and pen by his feet then turned to his three friends. Each of them held a glinting gem in their right hand.

  ‘Are you sure you want to do this, Gerald?’ Ruby asked.

  ‘Of course. Got to seize the day, like the man said.’

  Gerald moved across so Sam was on his left with Alisha to his right and Ruby in front. ‘On the count of three, okay? One…two…’

  As Gerald called three, Sam lifted his left arm and took Ruby by the elbow. She raised her hand and grabbed Alisha the same way. Then Alisha closed the last link around Gerald’s waist: a triangle of arms, clasped at the elbow—the symbol of the fraternity with Gerald the sun at its centre. The three
gems started to vibrate in their extended palms. They began to glow and Gerald felt a tingling below his ribs. But it wasn’t what he’d expected.

  ‘That’s funny,’ he said. ‘I thought that—’

  Then it hit him—like a surge of white light made physical. A rush of energy coursed through his bones. He was a human lightning rod for every electron in the room. The gems lit up like Chinese lanterns as the power thrust through him. His body convulsed and his head shot back, eyes bursting, his pupils disappearing altogether.

  He was blind.

  But what he could see!

  A filtered cry split his lips and Gerald dropped to the floor. The others were dragged down with him and the triangle around his waist broke. Gerald’s eyes were shut but his hands searched in spasms until they found his notebook. Eyelids still sealed, his pen scratched across the page in a blur. He started at the very edges and worked inwards in a clockwise whirl. In only a few seconds the page was filled with lines. The book spilled from his fingers, dropping open onto the rug.

  Gerald opened his eyes.

  Ruby picked up the drawing. It was a seascape in amazing detail. In the centre was an island with rocky bluffs soaring above crashing surf. On the cliffs stood a castle, as dark and foreboding as anything from a Grimm fairytale.

  ‘It’s there,’ Gerald breathed. ‘The third casket is there.’

  Sam looked at his friend, bewildered. ‘How can you be sure?’

  Gerald returned the stare. ‘Because I just saw it there.’

  An uneasy silence fell across them. Alisha picked up the three gems and placed them on her father’s desk.

  ‘You still going home?’ Sam asked.

  Gerald didn’t reply. The door to the library opened and Mr Fry and Miss Turner walked in, each taking care not to acknowledge the other’s presence.

  ‘The car is ready,’ Fry said.

  Miss Turner turned to Alisha. ‘You have your father’s permission to accompany your friends to the airport.’

  Still Gerald stared at Sam. He finally spoke. ‘Isn’t home the best place?’ Gerald said. ‘The safest place?’

  He scooped up his backpack and took the notebook from Ruby. Before he could stuff it inside, Miss Turner spoke.

  ‘Oh, I know that place,’ she said.

  There was a sudden change of temperature in the room.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Gerald asked. He held out the notebook. ‘You know where this is?’

  Miss Turner nodded. ‘It’s in France. Off the Normandy coast.’

  Gerald glanced at the drawing. The castle seemed to radiate from the page. He looked to Sam and then to Ruby. They had come so far.

  ‘Gerald?’ Ruby said.

  He breathed out. Sir Mason Green had to be stopped.

  Then again, home would be so nice.

  So comfortable.

  So secure.

  And way too predictable.

  He looked again at Miss Turner.

  ‘France, you say?’